


Hydrogen Peroxide

by Luxie_C



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Gaslighting, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Manipulation, Murder, One Shot, Someone Help Will Graham, Torture, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:59:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25601725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luxie_C/pseuds/Luxie_C
Summary: After dealing with gruesome murders during the day as a criminal profiler for the FBI, Will Graham seeks his psychiatrist, Doctor Hannibal Lecter, for comfort, only to find him busy with a victim of his own.(Please be wary of the tags, this is a story about manipulation and gaslighting, there's no fluff. If you're not okay with these themes please don't read)
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 45





	Hydrogen Peroxide

In any other night, Will Graham would have stayed home. He wouldn't let those terrifying dreams have the best of him, a towel and a new shirt would do the trick. But for some reason, his empathy perhaps, he feared it wouldn't be enough this time.

During the day he worked hard to catch a man who preyed on single young adults who looked for a relationship, and at night, the faces of each and every victim haunted his sleep, begging for closure. For peace.

The entire idea of using someone's desire for intimacy as a weapon sickened him. The concept wouldn't leave his head, no matter how hard he tried, and yet he hadn't dared to discuss it with doctor Lecter. It felt inappropriate, even if it wasn't.

Now, at three am, he could feel Hannibal's name lurking in his dreams, behind all victims and killers, like a ghost in the back of his head. The presence came with an unsettling loneliness, one that was unknown to Will. He was used to being alone, in fact he despised the idea of certain company, but loneliness was something he never truly felt. For the first time in his life, he wished for someone to be there, not just anyone, a certain doctor who calmed him down almost as well as his dogs did.

He wasn't sleepwalking when he got up, or when he started the car, even less when he took the road headed to Baltimore, Maryland. All this time Will was conscious, even if not entirely present. His mind wandered through the victim's thoughts, how they desperately wanted affection, or love. Their despair echoed inside his head and always came with a Lithuanian accent.

Maybe this feeling was just his empathy taking over, recognizing other's feelings as his own, but that didn't change the fact that he needed Hannibal. For so many months the psychiatrist had been his rock, the only thing binding him to the real world, and keeping Will from fading into his stream. He kept telling himself it was perfectly normal to need someone like that, to not be able to breathe without them. After the sixth time he began believing.

When he finally arrived it was nearly four am and the only lights were those of the street, even the three floor house was completely dark, and that crushed his chest even more. Maybe Hannibal wasn't home, or was asleep and would be mad to be awaken. If Will stayed in his car and drove back home he could get a few more hours of sleep before going to work, but that wouldn't shake this terrible feeling away.

A look. Just a peek at the doctor would be enough to make him feel better, he thought. Just knowing he wasn't alone.

So against his better judgement, Will stepped out of his car and entered the house, ignoring the doorbell in case Hannibal was asleep. He could explain the trespassing later.

It was hard to see at first, the dark colors and the new moon didn't help either, leaving the place pitch black. Even at night the entire atmosphere felt like Hannibal. Elegant and yet bold. It felt comfortable, safe, like home. Will began to follow that feeling into the dining room, searching desperately for whatever he could hold on to, something that could calm him down without having to wake the doctor up.

One could say he found what he was looking for. Nothing screamed stability like the big table that layed before him. The place where he dined, talked and listened, where he could forget life for an entire - and dared he say, delicious - meal. Just being there already helped more than the aspirins he'd taken earlier. Every breath he took he breathed Hannibal Lecter in, holding him in his lungs long enough to feel complete, one with his entity, and even lonelier than before when he let go of the air.

He was ready to go up the stairs and wake the man up when he noticed the light coming from the kitchen. Hannibal would never go to sleep with a light on, or even leave the room without turning it off. Something was clearly wrong.

It was as if a lightning has gone through Will's spine, waking him up from the almost dream-like state he was in before, causing him to quickly draw his gun and enter the room, fearing more for his doctor's life than his own.

For Will's utter despair, the light came from the pantry, a place he had never seen open. Lights on? The most sacred place in his house opened for anyone to see? Hannibal Lecter would never go to sleep leaving his house like that. A million alternatives of what could have happened passed through the poor unstable man's mind before he began panicking even more, bursting through the pantry the same way he walked in on the Hobb's household.

The panic state was so devastating that Will didn't even question why Hannibal would have a second freezer only for meat, or why it had a lightbulb that never turned off. All he could see was the trap door in the center of the room, completely opened and begging for a peek.

Slowly and quietly, he walked down each step fearing the next one, begging for all of it to be just a hallucination, for Hannibal to be safe and sound, tucked in his bed, even if having someone beside him. It would be better than what crossed Will's mind. Way better.

Images of the victims came back to his mind, only now their faces were replaced with high cheekbones and thin lips. Even old cases were turned into Hannibal in his head, making the simple act of thinking unbearable. Everywhere he looked he saw the doctor's death, him as Cassie Boyle, him played out like an "angel", his throat turned into an instrument and so it went on. Each thought a stab to his guts.

Without even knowing what he was doing, Will began searching through the plastic curtains, begging to find anything that wasn't his beloved doctor's rotting corpse.

His wishes were granted, to some extent, as what stood in front of him wasn't a corpse, but a pale and thin looking man tied to a chair, with a needle being pushed into the veins on his forearm by a creature with no remorse in his eyes, the same monster who listened and had helped for so long, only now without his veil. The same monster he missed dearly.

The creature injected a clear liquid into the victim's bloodstream, watching everything with a fascinated gleam in his eyes. It took seconds before the reaction began and Will understood what that substance was.

Hydrogen Peroxide, or H2O2.

The liquid swam through the man's veins, destroying everything it touched. A white foam began to burst trough, breaking, changing. Will noticed the victim's neck should be broken, as he couldn't scream in pain, a sensation he was definitely feeling, due to every cell in his bloodstream being torn apart.

"H-Hannibal..." The name came as whisper, mostly for Will himself,before he repeated louder. "Hannibal! Get away from him..."

Instead of fear or anger, the look in the doctor's eyes as he turned was one of pure adoration. Of course, before he dropped the syringe and began slowly walking towards Will.

"Who? There is no one here with us." He said, slowly entering Will's space as he desperately tried to gaslight his patient. "Will, you are disassociating. Focus on me. There is no one else with us."

"Liar! I'm sane... I'm perfectly sane... I know what's happening and what's not!" If Will wasn't already in panic before, he certainly was now. Nothing felt real. The feelings inside his chest were borrowed from someone else, so perhaps what he was seeing was also stolen, it had to be. He had to be sane.

"Hand me the gun, Will. Hand me the gun and we'll talk." His voice was soothing, calm, a reminder of what William was there for. Company, right? Or was it attention? Something like that.

Hannibal reached for Will's hand and grabbed the gun, not taking long before putting it on a metal table, just so that one danger was out of the way. "Now, focus on me." He said, turning back to him. "Focus on my voice. Remember where you are, and who you're with. You are Will Graham, you're in Baltimore, Maryland and I'm here with you. There is no one else in the room."

Will fought to believe the words. He knew he was being lied to, and yet he didn't want to believe it. "My name is Will Graham." He repeated in between desperate sobs. "I'm in Baltimore, Maryland, with Hannibal Lecter..." The words got stuck inside his throat. If he spoke there would be no turning back. "And we're alone."

And he cried, in a way he hadn't ever since he was a child. He cried and doubted everything he had seen, everything he knew, all the truths inside his skull, as if someone had hit the reboot button and he was back to factory mode. The only truth left at the moment was the gentle hand behind his nape, guiding him up the stairs while being a subtle and welcome reminder of human warmth.

When Will realized he was already seated by the dining table as Hannibal quickly tried to figure out what he was going to do to him. 

Back to the enviroment of minutes before, Will tried to reach for that feeling of stability he felt earlier, for whatever was in that room that calmed him down, but the sight of a killer didn't help.

No. Not a killer. His friend. Hannibal was not a killer. They were alone. Everything he had seen, or thought to have seen was a lie. Hannibal was telling the truth. Hannibal didn't lie. At least not to him.

"You don't have a fever, that's good." The voice pulled him back into the real world, reminding him of who he was, where he was and who he was with. "But you are still covered in sweat. You can use my shower to take a bath if you would like to. Then we can discuss why you drove an hour at four in the morning."

What was he there for, again? Something to do with the murders of the day. But that didn't matter anymore, all he cared about was this loneliness that still lingered on his chest, no longer masked by the panic.

"I- thank you. I would like that" Will mumbled in between what was left of his tears.

A completely new kind of smile took over the doctor's face as he stood up and placed his hand gently in Will's right shoulder, passing over his head and guiding him once again. It almost felt natural to be moved around by such a gentle touch, to feel a more dominant presence telling him everything was going to be all right.


End file.
